Dumbledore's will
by landslide
Summary: After his death, Minerva is heartbroken, but Albus'will makes things... different. Complete. One-shot. MMAD.


A month had passed since Albus Dumbledore had traded the now for the eternity

Dumbledore's will

A month had passed since Albus Dumbledore had traded the now for eternity. His white marble tomb was visited daily by students, teachers and house-elfs and the school was weighed down with shed and unshed tears for the beloved Headmaster.

Although undoubtedly summer, Minerva could feel the chill in the halls of Hogwarts. There were no students present and most of the staff had gone. She felt full of fear of what was to come. Unlike Dumbledore, Minerva had not placed all of her hopes on Harry Potter. She had agreed with Albus that it was Harry who would have to defeat Lord Voldemort – she no longer shuddered at mentioning his name – but that Harry would need a great deal of support from 'the people'. The letters she received from the Ministry daily were filled with twaddle and she was certain that half of the staff was Confunded or under an Imperius spell. While she walked briskly through the hall towards her classroom, she rubbed her neck. Minerva no longer wore her bun piled high on the top of her head, but in a soft twist in her neck to keep the muscles from tensing in the cold.

The last time that Minerva had felt this cold was right after she had been stunned. They had hit her so near her heart that her ribcage and part of her left breast were covered in scar tissue. All in the name of safety, in the name of Hogwarts. All in the name of Albus. Now she did shudder slightly. Minerva sighed, trying to swallow away the tears that always appeared when she thought of him. She had always known that his death would cause her pain, but she had never understood that it could amost be physical.

Her bed was empty each night. Cold. Lonely. Every morning she could see the traces of tears that had stained her face even in her sleep. Minerva no longer looked in the mirror with pleasure. She had lost weight and her already slender frame looked frail. There were dark circles under her eyes and she did nothing to hide them. She sometimes saw Poppy, Pomona and Filius when she went to the great hall to breakfast or eat dinner. Pomona was her best friend and Minerva had confided in her before, but she couldn't bring herself to talk to anyone.

Minerva hid her pain, her grief and her anger by being still. Sometimes, in the midst of all the tragedy that surrounded her, she felt an overwhelming anger: how could he let Severus get so near? How did he reckon Severus would react? Why didn't he do something? The greatest wizard of all time, defeated by a measly little Slytherin and his pupil. The greatest wizard of all time, who defeated Grindelwald, who had conquered prejudice Who had stolen her heart... he had left her to fend for herself. Minerva clenched her fists.

When she relaxed, a cloud covered the sun. the room seemed cold and big. Without Albus by her side, the whole world seemed cold and big. Without protection. Minerva knew she was a great witch in her own right – she had done things that only Albus knew about. She was quick, resourceful. Powerful. However, at this time in her life, after more than seventy years of living in the wizard community, she felt truly lost for the first time.

Minerva turned on her heels and walked away from the classroom, quickly to the Great Hall. She had no idea what time it was. She had left her chambers around ten, but standing there, remembering Albus could have easily taken hours. There were so many memories. In the newspapers, the journalists usually told about Albus great heroics, or now he was dead, about the lies he might have told, about his strange and unhappy childhood and his liaisons with undesirables. They did not write about his soft kindness, his passion for sweets, about the love that surrounded him always. Living as long as he had, he had made friends and enemies and Minerva knew them all. One would think that Lord Voldemort was Albus'greatest enemy, but this was not the case. His greatest enemy was his power for self-sacrifice.

When she reached the Great Hall, she found Pomona coming towards her, holding a parchment in her hand. She waved it at Minerva.

"The will… it has been released… we are all to come to the Ministry!" Pomona said, breathlessly.

A long silence parted the question from the answer, as if Minerva needed to search her brain to find her voice. When it came, it sounded brittle, but determined.

"I cannot leave Hogwarts unprotected. Tell Scrimgeour to read the will here."

Pomona nodded. Minerva watched her go to the table, sit down and ask a quill. Filius handed her one and she scribbled a note. A small owl was summoned, for Minerva saw one flying to Pomona and rubbing his head against her robes. Filius attached the parchment to the owl's leg and let it go. The three professors stared at the little bird as it flew away, free for the duration of his journey.

Plates of food appeared on the table, the house elfs didn't care about ceremony during the summer holiday and Minerva tried to detect a feeling of hunger. She sat down, gingerly,but not in her own seat. It was too close to Albus'. Instead she used the chair normally used by Irma Pince and took a slice of bread from a plate and spread a thin layer of butter on it. As she looked down on the food, she could feel her stomach revolve and she pushed the plate away. Pomona handed her a cup of tea, carefully, without a word. Minerva wished she could at least smile back at her friend, but it was as if her jaws were locked, frozen even.

Minerva returned to her rooms. She had a fire going, made professionally by Winky. The soaring heat filled the room and as the sun beamed in, Minerva wondered why she couldn't seem to get warm ever again. Even in the bath she was cold, adding more and more hot water, making her skin feel blistered and red. She now sat on her sofa, covered by a plaid. Winky appeared with more tea and biscuits and left her mistress to her own thoughts. Minerva's thoughts were entirely on herself.

'Where do I draw the line between grief and self-pity' she thought. 'When do I wallow in feeling sorry for myself and when am I allowed to?' Absent-mindedly she stirred the sugar in her tea. Before Albus death she didn't take sugar, but now she did. She also had taken up the habit of eating a sherbet lemon every day at five. One of the things she missed the most about Albus was his scent. His voice and his smell, they were his core. His long waving silver hair, that was just looks and contrary to popular belief, Albus was quite vain when it came to his hair, beard and sense of style.

Albus had found her 'effortlessly beautiful'. She would wear deep purple robes that would give him a good look at her cleavage, her hair undone, waving down her back. Or figure clinging red robes and her hair in a low ponytail. She didn't wear glasses in the beginning and even now, when she closed her eyes nad concentrated she could feel his hand, cupping her cheek.

A knock on the door made her wipe away the tears that were running down her face and she jumped up from the sofa, whiping away the creases in her robe. When she opened the door, it was Pomona.

"Scrimgeour has arrived and wishes to see us in the teacher's lounge…"

Minerva nodded. She followed Pomona to the lounge and entered behind her. Scrimgeour had taken the head position at the conference table. Minerva could feel her nostrils flare.

"Why are you sitting there?" she asked, her voice still brittle and incredibly shrill.

"It is the head of the table, I thought it appropriete." The tall man answered.

"I do not." Minerva could feel a passionate fury come over her, she trembled as she tried to contain it.

"Where would you have me sit?" he asked, his tone harsh.

"Anywhere but there. Take my seat, I will sit next to Pomona and Poppy." Minerva sat down slowly in the seat, feeling strengthened by her friends. She could feel Popmona's hadn on her arm. The touch was warm.

Scrimgeour took Minerva's seat and took out a thick package of parchments. Filius hopped in his chair, trying to read the first lines.

Minerva closed her eyes, suddenly dizzy. When she opened them, she saw that Scrimgeour was waiting for her. With a stiff nod she gave him permission to start reading. His gruff voice filled the room.

"This is the last will and testament of Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore… here follows mostly events that have lead to this day, all meticulously reported and here, on the final three pages, are the bequests. To my dear friend Filius Flitwick I leave my hand carved chess set. Because I know he will appreciate it. To my friend Pomona Sprout I leave my books regarding care of magical flora, which she will put to better use than I ever could. To Poppy Pomfrey, who has taken care of me and my ailments: a safe refuge in Hogwarts, where she may remain until she desires otherwise. To Ronald Weasley: the Deluminator. To Miss Hermione Granger: A first edition of the tales of Beedle the bard and to Harry Potter: the first Snitch he caught and the sword of Godric Gryffindor."

Minerva heard her friends hold their breaths. Within moments she heard Poppy's calm, soothing voice: "Is that it, Rufus?"

Scrimgeour shifted uneasily, putting down all the papers but one. He held it up against the light.

"My people could not make heads nor tale of this last page. I will read it though and you will have to sort it out yourself." He scraped his throat.

"To Minerva McGonagall I leave a small red velvet bag. This is for her. She will use it well. Besides this, I give her nothing but my all."

Both Poppy's and Pomona's hands slipped into Minerva's, who was feeling tears stream down her face. After a few moments she found it in herself to control them and got up from her seat.

"Thank you Rufus…" she walked past him, to Albus' chambers, took the rotating stairs and found herself in the familiar surroundings for the first time since his death. She could almost taste the air, sweet lemon and chocolate, mixed with ginger and tea. She hurried over to his desk, taking care not to touch any of the trinkets, knowing full well that if any broke, she would be held responsible. She opened the top drawer and found the bright red velvet bag. She picked it up and placed it in her pocked. It felt very light, as if all that was in there was air.

Her hands were trembling when she tried to open the bag in her rooms. She could not get the knot untied and she was breating heavily. Minerva forgot all eventualities, didn't care about being cautious. All she wanted was what was inside that bag. She frantically searched her robe for her wand and took it out, the tip shaking violently.

"Alohomora…" her voice was no more than a whisper, but the laces that kept the bag closed opened with ease. The bag unfolded and a tiny container of ashes and a piece of parchment stuck out. Minerva picked it up and read it.

'Memoria diligo subsisto'

She tasted the words in her mouth as she spoke them, her voice not failing her for the fist time in a month. Nothing happened. She looked at the note again. Under the boldly written words Albus had scribbled something in Ancient Runes.

'Say them in front of the Mirror of Erised'

Minerva held the note tightly in her hand, remembering the words, running through the hall. She nearly knocked Rufus Scrimgeour over in her wild race, but she didn't turn to look. On and on she ran, to the dungeons, through the halls there, to the door where she would find the staircase to the foundations. She opened it and as quickly as she could descended the slippery steps. She glistened down the old flagstones, carelessly stepping in small pools of water, splashing her robes.

Finally she arrived. The Mirror of Erised was in front of her. She opened her eyes and spoke the words on the note again:

"Memoria diligo subsisto."

Instead of what she normally saw in the mirror – herself as a younger woman, with Albus, two small children and a pregnant belly – she only saw Albus. She reached out to touch him and felt her fingers dip through the smooth surface. She could feel how Albus grabbed her hand and pulled her through the mirror.

They stood in front of each other, her hand in his. She couldn't speak. All the things she had wanted to say seemed to be drained from her memory. Instead, she heard Albus, his voice ringing and vibrating, like it had done before the accident with his hand.

"Minerva, I know you have been wanting to run. You can't. You must stay. For your Gryffindors, for the other pupils. Your wisdom and strength will be required this new schoolyear. I would gladly have told you that the time to come is not as bad as you fear. I cannot. It is going to be all you fear. You are the only one prepared. Be strong Minerva and know that one day, we will be together again."

Albus let go of her hand and Minerva felt like she floated out of a dream. She stood in front of the mirror again. She saw herself and Albus, holding hands. A tiny smile crinkled her thin lips.

It was after Harry defeated Voldemort and Minerva could have a talk with Albus in his portrait that she started to feel warm again. She had a tiny portrait made and took Albus with her to them, sharing a life they had not had together before. She took the little portrait with her everywhere, including Minister's meetings and the Great Hall for dinner and even her bedroom.

One evening, a year after the ending of the war, Minerva saw herself in the mirror. Touching her scars, she suddenly thought of the tiny bottle of ashes that had been in the velvet bag. She dug it up from her desk and opened it. The contents smelled of lemons and chocolate. This powder was not ash. Instinctively, she dusted some of the powder on the scars of her breast. Nothing seemed to happen. She applied more on the other scars and with a soft tingling feeling she saw the tissue rearranged. It didn't disappear, but as she looked without blinking, she could see words forming:

Memoria Diligo Subsisto

Minerva giggled and slipped on her nightie and turned around.

"Did you do that just to see my breasts?" she asked.

"Why else?" the portrait answered and winked.


End file.
